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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25451608">Our Gentle Sin</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisplacedKey/pseuds/DisplacedKey'>DisplacedKey</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Diarmute AU Week 2020 [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Pilgrimage (2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Angels &amp; Demons, Asshole Geraldus, Blood and Violence, Diarmute AU Week, M/M, Torture</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:07:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,376</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25451608</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisplacedKey/pseuds/DisplacedKey</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Hunt was a team of powerful angels who hunted and killed demons on Earth. It was made up of only the most powerful, ruthless angels of Paradise, who were hailed as returning heroes when they come back from their missions. By all accounts, Diarmuid should’ve felt gratified that he’d been recruited.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Brother Diarmuid/The Mute</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Diarmute AU Week 2020 [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1838056</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Our Gentle Sin</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Title from "Take Me to Church" by Hozier because obviously. Obviously.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sometimes Diarmuid thought that his power was more of a curse than a blessing. If he were less powerful, Geraldus never would’ve insisted that he join the Hunt. Diarmuid wanted to work with Ciaran and his plants. He’d spent countless hours working under Ciaran’s tutelage, nurturing hundreds of plants and learning everything there was to know about them. But his training had always been two-sided. The first side was creating life. The second was taking it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Diarmuid hated those lessons more than anything, but he didn’t have a choice in doing them. He’d hoped that once he was done with training, he could join Ciaran and never have to hurt a living being again. He and Ciaran had both been sure that he would, but Geraldus intervened. Geraldus said that Diarmuid had too much potential, too much raw power, to squander it tending plants.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No offense,” he’d said to Ciaran, a false smile on his face. “But the boy could make a real impact against the Devil’s forces on Earth, should he join my team. You can see how much more important that is, yes?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I believe that all of our pursuits are equally important,” Ciaran had said. Geraldus’s smile grew a tad more fixed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, of course. Regardless, I believe he belongs with the Hunt. And our superiors agree.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hunt was a team of powerful angels who hunted and killed demons on Earth. It was made up of only the most powerful, ruthless angels of Paradise, who were hailed as returning heroes when they come back from their missions. By all accounts, Diarmuid should’ve felt gratified that he’d been recruited. Instead he went to Ciaran in tears, begging for rescue. “I can’t do it,” he sobbed as Ciaran rubbed his back. “I can’t spend the rest of my life killing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Diarmuid,” Ciaran said. “I know this isn’t what you wanted, but it’s out of my hands.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Diarmuid scrubbed his face with one sleeve. “I wish I didn’t have this power. It’s done me no good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t say that,” Ciaran said, smoothing down his hair. “Without this power, you would not have been able to do so much with the plants and animals. Whatever He has planned for you, this power is part of it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” Diarmuid said. “But killing demons? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Me?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“His plan is not always obvious, or pleasant,” Ciaran admitted. “But it is right for you, in the end.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So Diarmuid became the newest member of the Hunt. They gave him a deep blue robe, a red cloak, and a wickedly sharp sword. “A conduit,” Geraldus explained, “to increase your power against our foes in the battle to come.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sword was heavy in his hand. He started training with it immediately. His instructor, Rua, was serious and strict, but Diarmuid far preferred him to Geraldus. Rua never raised his voice or lectured about the importance of the Hunt’s mission. He just wanted Diarmuid to put in some effort during the lessons and practice sessions. Gradually, Diarmuid began to feel less clumsy with the sword, and Rua started teaching him how to channel his power through it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Demons are stronger than mortal creatures and take more power to kill,” he explained. “Focusing your power in your sword will intensify it, and enable you to do much more damage than if you were bare-handed. Do you understand?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um, yes, I think so,” Diarmuid said. “Why, though?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rua raised an eyebrow but didn’t chide him for asking, the way Geraldus would have. “These swords are specially made by our blacksmiths and imbued with a small amount of holy energy. Don’t ask me the specifics because I don’t know them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Diarmuid practiced with the sword, funneling his power into it until he could cut ten dummies in half with a single swing. Geraldus praised his progress, proclaiming that he would become a fine warrior for the Lord. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All of it made Diarmuid queasy. Scattering seeds into the soil, sprinkling water over delicate flower petals; that was what he wanted to be good at, not killing. Whenever possible, he visited Ciaran in his gardens. It wasn’t often—training took up most of his time—but once in a while, he was able to return to that slice of peace. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then it was time to go hunting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ours is a sacred mission,” Geraldus said, standing in front of them with his hands folded. “Demons are monsters sent by the Devil to terrorize the Lord’s children. They destroy, rape, maim, and kill. They are mindless, amoral beasts who do not hesitate to slaughter anyone who gets in their way. You must be vigilant and you cannot hesitate.” His eyes met Diarmuid’s. “We will cleanse the earth of this plague together.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Earth was wonderful. The sky was bright blue, spotted with light grey clouds. The grass was thick and deep green, and the trees were alive with the colors of fire. Cold winds blew leaves from the branches and carried them through the air. Geese honked as they crossed the sky in V formations. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Focus, boy,” Geraldus snapped. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Diarmuid was trying, but they’d entered the forest, and there were so many things to look at. The trees, striped with lichen and vines. The forest floor, alive with ferns, fungi, and moss. Shrews and hedgehogs trundled along the ground, hares and red foxes darted away from the sound of their footsteps. It was messy and beautiful. A perfect example of the Lord’s creativity and delicate hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Diarmuid,” Rua chided gently. Diarmuid turned away from a toadstool, his cheeks flushing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s just so—so—” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Marvelous</span>
  </em>
  <span> didn’t begin to cover it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just concentrate, okay? The last thing we need is another lecture from Geraldus.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Diarmuid’s lip twitched and he nodded. Inwardly, he scolded himself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>There’s a demon living around here</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>A demon who wants to destroy and harm everything you’re seeing around you. A demon who will rip your throat out given the chance. Concentrate!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The team’s most adept trackers pointed out the signs. Large clawed footprints, half-erased; the hint of smoke despite no other signs of a fire; a couple of fallen scales the color of deep red wine. A demon had been living here, possibly for some time. All they had to do was hunt it down and kill it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They split into pairs so that they could cover more ground. Diarmuid stuck with Rua, the both of them holding their swords at the ready. “Stay calm,” Rua instructed him. “You’ve trained for this for months, and I’m with you. You’re ready for this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Ready to fight, maybe</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Diarmuid thought, swallowing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not for what comes after.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They crept through the trees, ferns and shrubs brushing against their robes. There was a shout a couple hundred feet to their left. Rua spun around, lifting his sword. “Get ready,” he hissed. Diarmuid lifted his sword too, his heart thumping fast in his chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Footsteps, breaking branches, and then a blur ran past them, a flash of tan and black and burgundy, the smell of smoke. Rua shouted and gave chase, and Diarmuid followed him. He wasn’t used to running across such rough, uneven, unpredictable terrain. Branches whipped his face and caught on his wings, and roots and rocks made him stumble; he quickly lost track of Rua, and then lost track of where he was entirely. He continued running, heading in the direction he assumed Rua and the demon had gone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Diarmuid’s foot caught on a root and he tripped, the sword tumbling out of his hand as he slammed into the ground. The impact jarred through his bones and he lay against the ground for a moment, stunned, his wings twitching. A second passed, then another, and he pushed himself to his knees. The moss was soft and spongy against his palms. What a strange thing to notice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A branch snapped, and then the demon was in front of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was the first time Diarmuid had ever seen a demon up close. This one was tall, broad, and tanned. His curly hair and beard were dark brown. His eyes were jet black, his teeth pointed. His fingers and toes ended in sharp claws. Huge, scaly, wine red wings jutted from his back. A pair of ram’s horns curved out from his head. He wore a pair of tattered brown pants and nothing else. Scars littered his body. His chest heaved and his eyes were wide. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s handsome</span>
  </em>
  <span>, was Diarmuid’s first thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t have my sword</span>
  </em>
  <span>, was his second. Diarmuid’s eyes strayed to the demon’s claws and teeth before coming up to meet his eyes. They stared at each other. The demon’s eyes were like pools of ink. His scales gleamed in the sunlight. He was beautiful, really. Maybe it was blasphemous to think so, but he was. It wasn’t a terrible last sight. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The demon turned and ran, surprisingly agile for his size. He slipped between the trees and then he was gone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Diarmuid scrambled to stand up and find his sword, which was lying beside a fern some five feet away. He puzzled over the demon’s hasty retreat. Why hadn’t he killed Diarmuid? Geraldus had said that demons were killing machines. They didn’t spare anyone, and certainly wouldn’t spare one of the angels sent to kill them. Yet this demon did. It didn’t make any sense.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Diarmuid was about to start running after him when Rua crashed through the trees. “Diarmuid!” he said. “Where have you been?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I fell behind,” Diarmuid said. “I’m not used to this terrain, I-I tripped.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rua sighed. “Well, you wouldn’t be the first. Are you hurt?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.” Diarmuid paused. “Rua, the demon—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I lost track of him too,” Rua said. “Come on, let’s try to either find him or see if we can locate the others. He’s wilier than I expected, we might need to restrategize.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They started walking again. Diarmuid bit his lip. “Rua, this demon...is it possible he’s...different?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Different how?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know, maybe...not as bad as the others?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rua gave Diarmuid a long look. “It’s understandable to be nervous,” he said, “but don’t let that cloud your judgement. Some demons may be more dangerous than others, but none of them are harmless.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right,” Diarmuid said. “It’s just—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please concentrate, will you? I don’t want him sneaking up on us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Diarmuid nodded, chastened. He would just keep the encounter to himself and trust Rua’s judgement. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After ten more minutes of searching, they heard a scream from somewhere else in the forest. The sky had started to turn pink, the light dimming. Rua and Diarmuid ran toward the sound, stopping when they came upon a clearing. The rest of the Hunt stood in a circle. A scaly-winged figure knelt in the center. One of the angels turned at the sound of their approach. “Ah, about time,” he said. “We just barely managed to catch the bastard.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They walked forward and joined the circle. Diarmuid’s breath caught at what he saw. The demon knelt on the grass, his wrists bound in front of him with thick chains. Fresh, bleeding cuts littered his body and one of his wings was bent wrong. The metallic scent of blood mingled with the smell of smoke. The demon trembled. Diarmuid’s stomach twisted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geraldus was speaking. “—and show this beast the wrath of the Lord, the Creator of all Things, so that he may suffer for his crimes!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geraldus raised his hands. They glowed a bright, searing white; there was the smell of something burning; and the demon screamed. It was an awful sound, agonized and visceral, and Diarmuid flinched. “What are you doing?” he shouted. Geraldus lowered his hands, scowling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am teaching this demon a lesson,” he said. “It is not your place to question me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The demon panted, tears trickling from his liquid black eyes. Diarmuid walked to the side to see what Geraldus had done and saw a cross burned into the demon’s back. He swallowed, feeling nauseous. Rua put a hand on his shoulder to pull him back, but he frowned at Geraldus too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s not drag this out, Geraldus. We’re here to kill the demons, not play with them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am merely meting out the Lord’s justice,” Geraldus said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mete it out a little faster, then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geraldus narrowed his eyes. “Very well.” He turned to Diarmuid. “Come here and claim your first kill, boy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Diarmuid’s stomach dropped to his feet. “What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s tradition for the newest recruit to claim the Hunt’s kill on their first mission,” Geraldus explained. “It’s the final step in becoming one of us.” He gestured toward Diarmuid’s sword. The other angels pushed him in front of the demon, making noises of encouragement. The demon looked up and their eyes met again. Tears silently slipped down his cheeks, one after another after another. He didn’t look mindless or evil. He looked scared and hurt. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What crimes does he stand accused of?” Diarmuid asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Does it matter?” Geraldus replied, raising an eyebrow. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If I am to be his executioner, then yes. It matters very much to me,” Diarmuid said, fighting to keep his voice steady. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geraldus sighed as if Diarmuid was acting like a bratty child. “He is a demon, boy. His very existence is a crime.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The demon lowered his head. Diarmuid turned Geraldus’s answer over in his head, repelled by its cold logic. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know it is not an easy decision,” Geraldus said, though his tone indicated that he didn’t know what was taking Diarmuid so long. “But remember, given the chance, he wouldn’t give you the courtesy of hesitating.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Diarmuid knew now that that wasn’t true. The demon wasn’t even fighting back now. Why wasn’t he fighting back? It looked like every angel besides Diarmuid and Rua had drawn his blood in the battle, but the angels themselves barely had a scratch on them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Diarmuid’s mind caught, suddenly, on that last part. His eyes flicked over the others, searching for wounds, and found none. They were ruffled, a bit dirtied, maybe a bit scratched up, but that came just from running through the forest. None of them were hurt. He hadn’t laid a hand on any of them, either. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What was it the angel had said? </span>
  <em>
    <span>“We just barely managed to catch the bastard.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The truth came to Diarmuid with sickening clarity. There hadn’t been a battle at all. It had been a hunt in every meaning of the word, with the angels as the predators, the demon their desperate, fleeing prey. Not a single defensive wound on the angels—the demon hadn’t even tried to hurt them, but they drew his blood anyway. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think Diarmuid is ready for this,” Rua said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nonsense,” Geraldus said. “Boy, this creature is an abomination. The Lord rejoices with every one of them that we kill.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It might be too soon,” Rua said, but Diarmuid held up a hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can do it,” he said quietly. Acid burned in his stomach and panic thrummed in his veins, but his mind was made up. He had to do the right thing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Excellent,” Geraldus said, smiling. “Remember, he is just—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“An amoral beast,” Diarmuid said, staring at Geraldus. “Yes, I understand completely.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He brought the sword down and sliced the demon’s chains in half. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Run</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he screamed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The demon bolted. Rage contorted Geraldus’s features into something ugly and hateful. “You little traitor!” he shouted, and lifted his sword.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Diarmuid swung first. Geraldus’s arm flew off in a spray of molten gold, and his shout morphed into a pained shriek. Diarmuid turned, shoved through the crowd of dumbstruck angels, and followed the demon.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The demon was fast and knew these woods well, but he was also hurt, and Diarmuid knew the basics of demon tracking now. He followed the trail of smoke and scales and footprints (and blood, now) to a cave made almost invisible by large rocks and vines. He ducked through the entrance and saw the demon in the corner, pressing moss to his wounds. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello?” Diarmuid said, and the demon whipped around, eyes wide. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, holding up his hands. The demon’s eyes went to Diarmuid’s sword, which hung on his belt. Diarmuid swallowed. “I’m not here to hurt you. I’m sorry that the others did. I...I don’t think you deserved that. You certainly don’t deserve to be killed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The demon narrowed his eyes, looking Diarmuid over like he was a puzzle to be solved. He was sitting with his back mostly to Diarmuid, so that Diarmuid could see the large, bloody cross burned into his flesh. It was horrible. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can help you,” Diarmuid said. “I have the power to heal. Please. I was part of this, willingly or not. I want to fix it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The demon considered him for what felt like an age, but finally gave Diarmuid a slow nod. Diarmuid smiled and knelt down in front of him. “Can I have your hands?” The demon held out his hands. Diarmuid laced their fingers together, careful of the claws. The demon was warm to the touch. “This is more difficult for people like us,” he said. “Those who aren’t mortal. There will be scars. I may not even be able to heal you completely, but I’ll try. I promise I’ll do my best.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The demon nodded. Diarmuid closed his eyes and focused on his power. The good part of his power, the gentle warmth of life like the summer sun. He felt it pool in his hands and slowly pushed it into the demon, who tensed. “Shh,” he murmured, “it’s alright. It’s just me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The warmth spread through the demon’s body like syrup, pooling around the cuts and sealing them up. It found the cross on his back and seeped into his broken wing. The healing was gradual, slowed by the severity of the wounds and the nature of their carrier. Diarmuid trembled with the effort of maintaining the power and focus. The smaller cuts sealed over completely, leaving behind shiny pink scars. The broken wing began to knit back together. The cross was harder; the holy energy had been more concentrated, had burned deeper. Diarmuid’s brow furrowed and he pushed his power further, ignoring the way his hands trembled and his head ached. The demon stirred and Diarmuid leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together. It was to calm him as much as it was to anchor Diarmuid. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once the cross had finally sealed over Diarmuid collapsed, exhausted, into the demon’s arms. “There you go,” he said, his words slurred. “That’s better.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The demon stared down at him, his eyes wide with surprise and gratitude. Eyes like pools of ink, curly hair, those huge scaly wings.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re very pretty,” Diarmuid said, and passed out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Diarmuid woke to the sound of a demon’s growl and a familiar voice saying, “If he’s hurt, the Hunt is going to be the least of your worries—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Rua?” Diarmuid murmured. He blinked open eyelids that felt as heavy as lead. Ugh, this was why Ciaran always counseled him against overextending himself. His hands brushed against something soft; he was lying in a nest of furs in the corner that smelled heavily of smoke. Diarmuid found himself liking the smell more and more. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Diarmuid!” Rua said, kneeling beside him. “Thank the Lord, you’re alright.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Diarmuid pushed himself up, feeling more than a little wrung out. “How did you find us?” he said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It wasn’t that hard,” Rua said. The demon stood behind him, looming over them both with crossed arms. “I directed the others away from this spot, but they might be back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The others. Right. “Did I...did I kill…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Geraldus will be fine,” Rua said, flapping one hand dismissively. “Not going on any more hunts, though. You made sure of that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Diarmuid winced. “Rua, I—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We don’t have time for a lengthy talk,” he snapped. “You freed a demon and maimed another angel. You’re a traitor now. Fallen.” Diarmuid swallowed, instinctively feeling behind him for his wings. Rua rolled his eyes. “Your wings don’t actually turn black and wither away to ash. It just means you’re barred from Paradise and any angel who sees you is obligated to report your whereabouts, if not kill you outright.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The demon grabbed Rua’s shoulder, growling. Rua batted his hand away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Geraldus was a menace,” Rua said. “He enjoyed the job too much. He was becoming far less selective in targets and far more cruel to those he caught. Hopefully, with him gone, the Hunt will become honest again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Diarmuid could barely keep his thoughts straight. It was so much information at once, and he was still so tired from the healing. “You’re not going to turn us in?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Rua said shortly. “Now, you need to get out of here. If you stay, the Hunt will catch up with you, and trust me, neither of you will be getting off easy if you’re caught.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But where will we go?” Diarmuid said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Far away,” Rua replied. “But you’ll still get caught eventually. An angel and a demon traveling together will be too conspicuous, and I doubt you’ll get leniency from anyone else if you’re noticed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Diarmuid and the demon glanced at each other and grimaced. They were doomed, then. Diarmuid refused to regret his actions. Taking the demon’s life would have been wrong, and Geraldus deserved punishment. If it cost Diarmuid his life, then so be it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There is one thing you can do,” Rua said. “You will be conspicuous as long as you are an angel and a demon traveling together. But if you’re not an angel and a demon…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Diarmuid gaped at him. “I thought that was a myth!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rua shook his head. “It’s true.” The demon looked between them in confusion. Rua turned to him and said, “There’s a way you can become mortal.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The demon’s eyes widened and he looked to Diarmuid in shock. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If we did that, they wouldn’t hunt us anymore?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, they’d still hunt you, but you’d be borderline impossible to find,” Rua said. “They’re not looking for a couple of humans, after all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t a decision to be taken lightly. Hunted or not, they would still be immortal, with the strength and power that came with it. If they became human, they would be safer, but they would die in less than a hundred years—the blink of an eye compared to what they were used to. And if the stories Diarmuid had heard were true, there was no going back. You could go from immortal to mortal, but not the other way around. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But there was no guarantee they would have long lives as immortals, either, not if the Hunt was after them. Dying of old age as a human would be far preferable than being torn apart by angels. And...Diarmuid liked Earth. It would not be an easy or long life, but it would be a beautiful one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll do it,” Diarmuid said. He looked to the demon, who nodded. Then he turned to Rua. “What do we have to do?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They had to go to a spring deep in the heart of a forest to the north of here, and submerge themselves in the water. Rua didn’t know exactly what the process felt like, but he knew it wouldn’t be pleasant. The journey there would be dangerous as well. They would have to travel by night and avoid open spaces. There would be no time for breaks. “You have to stay focused, Diarmuid,” Rua said. “I’m sure your demon friend will be able to lead the way, but don’t make things harder by getting distracted.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Diarmuid flushed. “I understand. Thank you, Rua. I owe you my life. And…” He swallowed, heat pressing behind his eyes. “Can you please tell Ciaran that I’m sorry, and not to worry for me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rua squeezed Diarmuid’s shoulder and nodded. “It’ll be a few hours before nightfall. Get some rest until then. You’ll need it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Diarmuid lay back down and waved goodbye. Rua and the demon nodded at each other, and then Rua was gone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So,” Diarmuid said. “We’re going to be together for a while, so...what’s your name? Mine is Diarmuid, obviously.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The demon blinked and shook his head. Diarmuid frowned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t want to tell me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The demon shook his head again, and then frowned, as if he wasn’t getting his point across. He gestured to himself and then made an “X” with his hands. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You...don’t have a name?” Diarmuid said incredulously. “Everyone needs a name!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The demon shrugged. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, that’s not acceptable,” Diarmuid said. “Don’t you want a name? I can help you think of one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The demon shrugged again, his face flushing a little. Diarmuid hummed and stared at the ceiling. This would require some thought. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The subject of the demon’s name would remain prominent in Diarmuid’s mind throughout their travels. The demon himself proved to be an excellent traveling companion, skilled at navigating and keeping Diarmuid on track. Diarmuid did try to focus, but there was so much to experience! The first time they came upon a creek, Diarmuid could not resist the temptation to dip his feet into the cool waters and use the tip of his sword to flip over rocks, revealing newts and tiny fish. The first time it rained, Diarmuid jumped in puddles and squelched mud between his toes. He eagerly pointed out red deer, badgers, and lizards. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” he said again and again. “I know I should focus, but it’s all so wonderful!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The demon didn’t seem to mind. He didn’t, or couldn’t, talk—Diarmuid wasn’t sure which—but he managed to get his feelings across pretty well. As someone who had lived on Earth for years, the idea that a wildflower or an oddly-shaped cloud could be a source of wonderment bemused him. During the day when they were in hiding, Diarmuid often prattled about the things he’d seen during the last night’s travels, innumerable questions mixing with his observations. He talked about the plants the most, which inevitably led back to Ciaran. “He was the best mentor you could ask for,” Diarmuid said, hugging his knees to his chest. They were hiding in a dense thicket of bushes. Not ideal for the long hours of waiting, but it was the best they’d been able to find today. They’d been traveling for a little over a week now, and the demon had indicated that they would arrive at the spring soon. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The demon sat next to him, so close their wings were almost touching. His smoky smell and the warmth he gave off were familiar now, even comforting, though Diarmuid supposed those would both disappear once they became human. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ciaran knew I didn’t belong with the Hunt,” Diarmuid said. “But he also told me that all of it was part of the Lord’s plan. I can only imagine what he thinks now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The demon chuckled. Diarmuid smiled too, but it faded fast. “...I miss him,” he admitted. “I said goodbye before the Hunt left, but it wasn’t a </span>
  <em>
    <span>goodbye</span>
  </em>
  <span> goodbye, you know? I thought I’d see him again.” The demon nodded. Diarmuid made himself shrug. “But it can’t be helped. No point in dwelling.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The demon looked him over, frowning. Diarmuid watched as his brow furrowed with some kind of internal struggle before he slowly reached over and took Diarmuid’s hand. He squeezed as if to say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>it’s okay</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> Diarmuid’s eyes welled with sudden tears at this gesture. The demon pulled his hand away in alarm, but Diarmuid leaned over and pulled him into a hug. “Thank you,” he said, his voice muffled in the demon’s neck. “Thank you. You’re so kind to me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The demon put his arms around Diarmuid and held him close, gently at first, and then so tightly it felt like he might break Diarmuid’s back. Diarmuid wondered how long it had been since someone had hugged the demon. He straddled the demon’s lap to more easily slot himself against that warm body, resting his chin on the demon’s shoulder. They stayed like that more the rest of the day, and when night came they were reluctant to part.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I like hugging you,” Diarmuid said, smiling. The demon blushed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The spring was so difficult to get to that it was no wonder most angels thought it was a myth. The closer they got to it, the harder it became to stay on the right track. They tried to keep north but found themselves pointed in a different direction at any given time. The undergrowth became unruly and arduous to get through, hiding vines that wrapped around their ankles and roots that tripped them up. The canopy of leaves overhead grew so dense that they could see only tiny patches of sky. At times, Diarmuid swore he heard rain but felt none. At times, the demon’s hair was ruffled by breezes that left Diarmuid untouched. They held each other’s hands tightly so that the forest would not separate them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It seemed to take days before they finally forced their way through a thicket of chest-high thorn bushes and collapsed at the edge of the spring. Diarmuid burst into relieved laughter. He was exhausted and the thorn bushes had torn his robes and skin and wings, but their journey was almost at its end. Soon they would be safe. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tapped the demon on the shoulder. “Come on. We’re not done yet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He unpinned his cloak and slipped out of his robe. The demon turned his head away so fast he almost gave himself whiplash and Diarmuid cocked his head. “What’s wrong?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The demon shook his head and, keeping his eyes averted for some reason, took off his tattered pants. After the fight with the rosebush they were little more than rags. After they got out of the spring, Diarmuid would give him the cloak. Once the demon was naked, Diarmuid held out his hand. The demon’s face turned bright red as he took it. Together they walked into the water. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was ice cold and clear as diamond. They took one step, two steps, and then the bottom dropped out from under them and they were plunged beneath the surface.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It hurt. Sweet, merciful God, it was like no pain Diarmuid could have imagined. It felt like shards of glass were peeling him apart layer by layer, digging into his chest and slicing his wings to tatters. It hurt too much to scream, it hurt almost too much to register. It lasted and lasted and lasted. When it became too much, Diarmuid’s mind shut down completely.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His next coherent memory was of clawing his way out of the spring. His fingers dug into the mud and ripped up the grass. He heaved himself out of the water and onto dry land, and when he rolled over the first thing he noticed was the absence of wings.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It worked</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought, and tears rolled down his face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Moments later, there was a splashing sound and the demon flopped onto the grass beside Diarmuid, who turned so they were both laying on their sides, facing each other. The demon wasn’t a demon anymore. His wings and claws and sharp teeth were gone, and his eyes were a dark brown. He was beautiful.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re beautiful,” Diarmuid said. “How about David?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The demon’s brow furrowed in confusion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your name,” Diarmuid reminded him. “Could it be David? It means ‘beloved,’ and that suits you very well.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They stared into each other’s eyes and finally, David nodded. Diarmuid grinned and scooted closer until their foreheads touched and their legs tangled together. “My David,” he said. “I love you. I think I’ve loved you since I first saw you. You were beautiful then, too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>David’s eyes gleamed with unshed tears. He pressed his lips to Diarmuid’s cheek and mouthed, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you are too good for me.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Diarmuid shook his head. “You’re perfect. I want to spend my life with you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>David’s tears spilled over and he nodded, pressing a kiss to Diarmuid’s lips. Diarmuid kissed him and kissed him and kissed him until the tears were gone and a joyous smile had overtaken his husband’s face. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This one got way longer than I planned, but it was also very fun to write. Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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